sharp-featured, but softened by the way she did her hair. Her movements and moods appeared quick and birdlike. Her expression was hard to read, and seemed permanently on the verge of changing. She was a little younger than him; middle thirties, he estimated. She really was quite slightly built.
Her eyes were dark violet. They missed nothing, including his reciprocation when he first saw her. It was now tenting the front of his well-cut trousers.
And there, rubbing against her ankles, was the famous ginger cat, brawny of body and wide of whisker. It glowered at him.
Fuck You it meowed.
“It doesn’t seem to like me.”
“It doesn’t like anyone, except me. And It is a He.”
As at Fallingwater, he tried to mask his feelings by taking stock of his surroundings.
The Boardroom was large, mainly white and silver; with its adjoining anterooms it covered nearly a quarter of the area of the Cathedral’s first floor. It had a long table of light wood set for twenty people. There were windows floor to ceiling down two walls, looking back along the length of the Pier to the beach and the i-360 Tower, and looking to the left over the pearlescent domes and spires and arches of the Cathedral complex. The third wall was lined with comms and screens, and the fourth wall, at the far end, with the tropical fish tank.
There were clusters of armchairs around the room’s perimeter, occupied by people who were obviously the Archbishop’s personal staff. They reminded him of Rafiq’s staff: competent and well-groomed, like Arden Bierce. They’d all stopped talking as he entered. They were still silent now.
He sensed a compression in the air behind him, and turned to see Gaetano approaching. Going to make me put on a show for her .
Gaetano carried a quarterstaff, and held it like he knew how to use it. Anwar reached out, blurringly fast, and took it. He broke it in two, then in four, then in eight, and handed the pieces back to him.
“Please,” he said, “I don’t have time.”
He had done most of this without taking his eyes off her. Many of her staff had gasped as he did it, but she remained silent.
She studied him, his thin face and hook nose and dark eyes. For he shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter. He shall defend thee under his wings.
He looked back at her. Into your trousers like a rat up a drainpipe , his eidetic memory helpfully reminded him.
“Leave us,” she said to her staff, hoarsely. “Give us this room.”
They left, with an alacrity which suggested this was not an unusual occurrence. After a moment’s pause, Gaetano followed them out.
It happened on the Boardoom table, noisily and untidily. There was no foreplay, just an abrupt transition from the vertical to the horizontal. He fumbled with her long voluminous skirt, she with his jacket and trousers, and each of them with each other’s underwear. They scattered the table settings. Normally he disliked making tidy things untidy, whether table settings or female clothing, but not now.
The ginger cat retreated to a corner of the room, and became absorbed in licking its private parts.
Because it was simple physical lust and nothing more, it came and went easily. There was little to be said afterwards. They sat on opposite sides of the long Boardroom table. It was a few minutes before either of them spoke.
“We’ll dine tonight,” she said, smoothing down her skirt, “and I’ll brief you. Gaetano will take you to your suite, and he’ll come for you at nine.”
“And you?”
She smiled. Her lips were dark red, like her dress. “I have an organisation to run.”
He turned to go.
“Wait,” she added. “I’ll walk back with you.”
Outside the door, Gaetano was waiting.
“Quarterstaff,” Anwar murmured. “Good choice.”
Gaetano smiled but did not answer.
They walked back along the silver and white corridor, down the wide staircase, and into the silver and white Cathedral.
Anwar felt something wrong in the air. Too much
Her eyes were dark violet. They missed nothing, including his reciprocation when he first saw her. It was now tenting the front of his well-cut trousers.
And there, rubbing against her ankles, was the famous ginger cat, brawny of body and wide of whisker. It glowered at him.
Fuck You it meowed.
“It doesn’t seem to like me.”
“It doesn’t like anyone, except me. And It is a He.”
As at Fallingwater, he tried to mask his feelings by taking stock of his surroundings.
The Boardroom was large, mainly white and silver; with its adjoining anterooms it covered nearly a quarter of the area of the Cathedral’s first floor. It had a long table of light wood set for twenty people. There were windows floor to ceiling down two walls, looking back along the length of the Pier to the beach and the i-360 Tower, and looking to the left over the pearlescent domes and spires and arches of the Cathedral complex. The third wall was lined with comms and screens, and the fourth wall, at the far end, with the tropical fish tank.
There were clusters of armchairs around the room’s perimeter, occupied by people who were obviously the Archbishop’s personal staff. They reminded him of Rafiq’s staff: competent and well-groomed, like Arden Bierce. They’d all stopped talking as he entered. They were still silent now.
He sensed a compression in the air behind him, and turned to see Gaetano approaching. Going to make me put on a show for her .
Gaetano carried a quarterstaff, and held it like he knew how to use it. Anwar reached out, blurringly fast, and took it. He broke it in two, then in four, then in eight, and handed the pieces back to him.
“Please,” he said, “I don’t have time.”
He had done most of this without taking his eyes off her. Many of her staff had gasped as he did it, but she remained silent.
She studied him, his thin face and hook nose and dark eyes. For he shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter. He shall defend thee under his wings.
He looked back at her. Into your trousers like a rat up a drainpipe , his eidetic memory helpfully reminded him.
“Leave us,” she said to her staff, hoarsely. “Give us this room.”
They left, with an alacrity which suggested this was not an unusual occurrence. After a moment’s pause, Gaetano followed them out.
It happened on the Boardoom table, noisily and untidily. There was no foreplay, just an abrupt transition from the vertical to the horizontal. He fumbled with her long voluminous skirt, she with his jacket and trousers, and each of them with each other’s underwear. They scattered the table settings. Normally he disliked making tidy things untidy, whether table settings or female clothing, but not now.
The ginger cat retreated to a corner of the room, and became absorbed in licking its private parts.
Because it was simple physical lust and nothing more, it came and went easily. There was little to be said afterwards. They sat on opposite sides of the long Boardroom table. It was a few minutes before either of them spoke.
“We’ll dine tonight,” she said, smoothing down her skirt, “and I’ll brief you. Gaetano will take you to your suite, and he’ll come for you at nine.”
“And you?”
She smiled. Her lips were dark red, like her dress. “I have an organisation to run.”
He turned to go.
“Wait,” she added. “I’ll walk back with you.”
Outside the door, Gaetano was waiting.
“Quarterstaff,” Anwar murmured. “Good choice.”
Gaetano smiled but did not answer.
They walked back along the silver and white corridor, down the wide staircase, and into the silver and white Cathedral.
Anwar felt something wrong in the air. Too much
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